Around the World in a Bad Mood! (12 page)

T
HE SCENE:
A crowded airplane. Delayed flight out of major East Coast city. It's Friday afternoon, there's a sense of chaos in the air. In seat 7B sits an uptight man, mid-­thirties. He's had a bad day. His investment portfolio is not doing well, he had a fight with his boss, and he didn't sleep well the night before. His demeanor brings to mind that of an agitated bull.

E
NTER:
A stressed-out businesswoman, dressed in black and carrying a leather bag with her laptop and piles of papers that overflow the bag. She is barking into her cell phone: “That is
not
acceptable and you better have it straightened out by Monday. I don't care if it takes you all weekend!” She is looking for her seat.

W
OMAN:
Is that seat 7A? (pointing to open seat next to the window)

M
AN:
I guess so.

W
OMAN:
I asked for an aisle seat. Are you sure you're in the right seat?

M
AN:
Positive.

W
OMAN:
I hate this airline; they can never do anything right.

She throws her bag on to the floor and then plops down in a big huff next to the agitated bull.

W
OMAN:
God, I hate flying. Don't you hate flying? Look at how crowded it is, everyone is flying.

Someone coming down the aisle bangs the man's head with an oversized piece of carry-on luggage.

M
AN:
Ow, watch it, pal.

The other passenger, unaware of his transgression, looks at him and apologizes bewilderedly.

M
AN:
Don't you hate people? Dumb clumsy people. God, I hate people.

W
OMAN:
Yeah, I hate people.

M
AN:
Are you gonna keep that bag there the entire flight?

W
OMAN:
I don't know. Are you going to keep your shoes off the entire flight?

M
AN:
None of your business. Yup, I really hate people. (He glares at her.)

They remain in their own worlds until after takeoff. The flight attendants are now coming through the aisle with their beverage carts.

W
OMAN:
Finally, we're going to get something to drink around here.

M
AN:
Yeah, it's about time.

F/A:
Care for something to drink, sir?

M
AN:
Yeah, I'd like a nice cold beer.

F/A:
Yeah, so would I. . . . Here. (She slams it down.)

Man sips beer. It's warm.

M
AN:
Jesus! Don't you hate warm beer?

W
OMAN:
Served with such great cheer?

M
AN:
What's there to like here?

W
OMAN:
Nothing at all . . .

W
OMAN:
I hate Pepsi, I hate Coke,

And people who can't take a joke.

I hate Starbucks, I hate pearls,

I hate boys who want to be girls,

I hate weekend coffee clutch,

I hate HMOs so much,

I hate flying on a jet,

and I hate the Internet!

God, I really hate my job,

TV shows about the mob,

Bottled water, sushi too,

Oprah's book club

How 'bout you?

M
AN:
I can't stand yuppies or soft, fluffy puppies.

Hate New York City, humor that's witty.

God, I hate tofu, Jerry Seinfeld, Leno, Letterman,

Star Wars,
too.

W
OMAN:
You really hate Letterman?

M
AN:
Yeah, I really do.

W
OMAN:
I've never met anybody who hates Letterman. . . . Everybody else loves him.

M
AN:
I can't stand all that . . .

W
OMAN:
Hype?

M
AN:
Yeah . . . hype.

W
OMAN:
Speaking of hype, what about the Oscars?

M
AN:
The worst!

W
OMAN:
You know what I really hate?

T
OGETHER:
Technology.

W
OMAN
(
Quite surprised
):
We hate the same things.

M
AN
(
Bewildered
):
That's the strange thing.

W
OMAN:
Let's see what this can bring, hating the same things.

A shy smile begins to come across her face.

W
OMAN:
I hate Sprint, it makes me cry.

M
AN:
I hate cell phones.

W
OMAN:
So do I! (She throws hers down the aisle.)

M
AN:
I hate junk mail, I hate quiche, and I hate the nouveau riche.

W
OMAN:
People who do not call back, and I hate the NordicTrack.

M
AN:
Media bombarding me.

W
OMAN:
Crappy talk shows on TV.

M
AN:
We hate everything it seems.

W
OMAN:
Still we hold on to our dreams!

T
OGETHER:
The world is full of things we do not love, but there's one thing I know is true: I could love hating life with you!

They kiss passionately. A flight attendant passes by and throws a blanket over them.

F/A:
God, I hate love!

O
K, I'VE BEEN GOING
on and on about how I wanted to be an actress, but it was certainly not easy for me. I can't figure out if it was because of the job and the fact that I was away so much or because I have no theatrical ability whatsoever. But let's put it this way, except for a few little things here and there, I was nowhere near being an actress. In fact, the only acting I was doing was acting like I cared about all the troubles at WAFTI—for that I could win an Academy Award. However, I'm not one to give up too quickly. I continued to go on auditions, attend classes, and get new head shots, all while flying my scheduled trips.

One day on a flight there was a passenger who looked very familiar to me. At first I thought I might have dated him, but that wasn't it and then suddenly, in the middle of picking up the garbage, it hit me. He was an agent and I had auditioned for him about three months before. He was casting small roles on soap operas. I had read for the part of a reporter and obviously did not get the job. Anyway, there he was—this casting director, right there in 17B. I didn't know quite how to handle this. Even though I remembered him, he didn't seem to recall me. I wasn't sure if I should approach him or just forget the whole thing. On one hand it might be a wonderful opportunity to remind him of my great potential as an actress and maybe even get another appointment to audition for him. On the other hand, I was wearing a polyester pantsuit, very little makeup, and my hair was in an ugly ponytail. Not to mention that I had been on duty for ten hours. I wasn't exactly projecting an image I would like to have etched in this man's mind.

After a lot of hemming, hawing, and discussion with the crew I decided to go for it. He looked bored and if he seemed annoyed I wouldn't bother him. I'd just stop by and say hello and go from there. Before I did anything I hit the lav with its flattering fluorescent light and tried to reassemble myself into something that didn't look so much like a creature from
Night of the Living Dead.
It wasn't easy, but I managed. I sauntered up the aisle to 17B, where I found Mr. Casting Director immersed in a script.

“Hi. I am so sorry to bother you, but I think I may know you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I believe we met a few months ago at your office. Aren't you a casting director?”

What a dumb thing to say! In my mind I'm always so smooth and articulate, but in reality I always manage to say really dumb things and that has to be one of the dumbest things I have ever said. “Are you a casting director?” What kind of an idiot am I? I realized that I should have just stayed in the galley, reading my
People
magazine like a good little flight attendant, but no, I had to go out and try to network. Dumb! Well, it was too late now. I tried to weasel my way out of it as gracefully as possible.

“Yes, I am. Were you in for an audition?”

“As a matter a fact I was. I was reading for the part of the reporter.”

“Right. Well, the writers cut that reporter out of the show, so it turns out we didn't hire anyone for the job.”

Hey, this was going a lot better than I'd thought. He was really nice and seemed pleased that I approached him.

“I hate flying,” he continued.

“So do I.”

We both laughed at that one. Then we reintroduced ourselves and began to chat about the show, auditioning, and flying. After a few minutes of chatting he gave me his card and asked me to call him on Monday because there was another audition and I might just be perfect for the part. I almost fell over. Needless to say I took the card and promised to call. I could hardly stand the weekend, I just wanted it to be Monday so I could call Mr. Casting Director. When Monday finally came around I made the call and he asked me if I could come in for a cold reading early Tuesday morning. Could I come in for a cold reading? What kind of a question is that? Could I come in for a cold reading? Ha. OF COURSE I COULD COME IN FOR A COLD READING!

To me this was the big time, because in terms of soaps, I had never really gone any further than being a “supporting player,” which really means an “extra.” I knew this was bigger than that because he wanted me to read for him. Supporting players do not read for things. Maybe it was for a regular character on the show. Maybe they were writing in a new character and it had “me” written all over it. I wondered if it was the ingénue, maybe the romantic lead . . . maybe not. Maybe it's the slut—I'll bet it's the slut! I've always wanted to play a slut. It'd be such a stretch!

I went in on Tuesday, about twenty minutes early so I could review the material and have a few extra moments to prepare. The receptionist gave me the script and I began to read. The scene was taking place on an airplane. The basic gist was there is a couple on a private jet, sneaking off to a romantic getaway. They're having a very elegant dinner when suddenly the plane loses control. This seems very dramatic so I'm beginning to wonder if I can pull off the elegance and the drama when suddenly the words “ENTER FLIGHT ATTENDANT” pop off the page. Oh no! I've now made the sad realization that they don't want me for the lead, they want me for the flight attendant.

It's not really a “sad” realization because I'm truly thrilled to be considered for anything. But gee whiz, a flight attendant? The one thing from which I'm trying to escape, and I get my one big chance and bang . . . there it is staring me in the face yet again! All of a sudden Mr. Casting Director is standing in the doorway. “Hi! Nice to see you again. I'm glad you had a chance to look over the script. I thought it was so appropriate for you, I mean, you'd certainly be able to bring some reality to the role, if you're selected.” He was smiling and I certainly didn't want to project or reveal any disappointment. After all, the part of the flight attendant had a lot of dialogue, it was two days' work, and the scene was very dramatic. So what if I wasn't the lead? All I had ever done up to this point was extra work, so this was a big step forward in my career.

“Oh, I think it's ingenious on your part! If I can't play this role correctly then I'm really in trouble,” I said, with a big flight-attendant smile on my face.

“Well, terrific! Let's get started.”

And with that I gave one of the best auditions of my life and left. Three hours later Mr. Casting Director called me at home and told me I had gotten the job. Wow! I was to pick up the script the next day and the taping would be the following Monday at the television station. Flight attendant or not, I must admit I was pleased.

I picked up the script and began to memorize the lines and think about the scene. It wasn't exactly true-to-life in terms of commercial air travel, but since it was set on a private jet it was a bit more believable. The day of the big taping I was to report to the television station at 7:00
A.M
. to do a read-through with the other actors and then a rehearsal with the director. I was there early and when the actors came in for the read-through, I was really excited. They were so nice to me and made me feel comfortable. They were also very impressed with my knowledge of the script. I had not only memorized all
my
lines but I had also memorized
their
lines. Any time they forgot a line I had it right on the tip of my tongue and would just throw it out to them and for that they seemed grateful. The rehearsal with the director went well and then it was on to hair and makeup, one of my favorite things in life. First of all, I adore the attention. About five people descend upon you, sort of sizing up your potential, and then they go to work. In about an hour you look like a million bucks! I didn't even recognize myself. I was so delighted with the way they made me look that I called Bitsy and said I wanted to meet her for lunch somewhere very chic because I looked so fabulous!

Finally the time had come for the taping of the actual scene. I was a little nervous because I didn't want to make a mistake, but as soon as I entered the set I could see that it was a pretty laid-back atmosphere. Everyone was joking and laughing and very friendly. Also, word had gotten out that I was a
real
flight attendant and everyone wanted to tell me horror stories from recent flights. Sometimes being a flight attendant is a terrific icebreaker, if you can stand hearing everyone's war stories over and over.

The set was incredible. They had an actual mock-up of an airplane, with all the accoutrements, such as meal carts, china, crystal, real food that looked delicious, and even champagne (I told you it wasn't like commercial air travel, but hey, it's television). As I mentioned earlier, the plane suddenly lurches out of control because the pilot passes out, and then the handsome hero has to save the day by taking over the controls and safely landing the plane. I thought this was a bit of a cliché, and in my humble opinion, the flight attendant should have landed the plane. However, this was not the case, so I thought it was best to just go along with the program. I was very curious about how they would make the plane lurch and create the necessary turbulence for the scene to seem real, and then I noticed that the plane had a long pole underneath it and the whole contraption sat on inner tubes. When it was time for the turbulence three guys on the left and three guys on the right would move the long poles back and forth and actually rock the plane on the inner tubes. The effect was quite realistic, especially when you were moving about on the plane trying to carry a tray. The time for the first take had arrived and the director called “Action,” and we began the scene.

“Good evening, Mr. Winters, welcome aboard!”

Then there were a few lines about what they would be having for dinner when suddenly the plane careens left then right. I had to act like I was in control, but also show that I was a bit frightened. Frankly, I felt like laughing every time it happened but, being the consummate acting professional, I restrained myself.

“What the hell is going on?” inquired the character of Mr. Winters.

“I don't know, I'll check with the pilot,” I replied, and then ran to the cockpit.

When my character returned Mr. Winters wanted a full explanation of what was happening and I told him that the pilot had passed out.

“Well, then who is flying the plane?” Mr. Winters demanded to know.

And then I got to deliver one of the best lines of my life: “No one is flying the plane!”

With that the plane lurched again and I almost started to laugh out loud, but I stayed in character and continued with the scene. It went on like this for a while, with a few retakes here and there. In the final moments of the scene, the hero safely lands the plane while I tend to the pilot. I leave the cockpit to get a cold cloth and never return—typical flight attendant.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my big television debut. Maybe you saw it. I thought for sure they would be calling me again with other parts, bigger parts, but no such luck. The next time they called—about a year later—it was for a smaller part, an extra. I accepted it, of course, but with definite disappointment. Realizing how unstable show business could be I was actually beginning to feel gratitude for my father's words of wisdom about
benefits
. I was a bit of a celebrity around the airline for a while. “Oh, hey, weren't you the one on the soap opera?” people would ask me. That was fun, but it passed rather quickly and then I was back to being a nobody in a blue polyester uniform again.